


we will share

by telanaris



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Finger Fucking, NSFW, fingering with feelings, fluff towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telanaris/pseuds/telanaris
Summary: “Don't be quiet,” she said, petting the tight muscles of his calf with her free hand as the other slipped between his thighs. He lifted his leg obligingly, granting her easier access to the target she sought. “I want you to be loud. To tell me—what you like, how you like it, hard or slow, or—”“Hard,” Julian croaked, lips parted and eyebrows knit with anticipation.And what a sight he is: lips parted, hips tilted towards her, seeking her hand. My eager boy. Already she loves more than she feels she has the right to, given the short time she’s known him. Looking at him like this… it’s wondrous, it’s fucking hot as hell, but the feeling pushing out from inside her chest is tender.He is far too beautiful to refuse for long.





	we will share

 

It is only natural, she thinks, after the day they have had—Julian coming back to her, or her coming back to him, both of them nearly caught by Nadia dry-humping to completion on his old desk in the palace library—that the night would lead them to this. Julian is seated in one of the ancient wooden chairs at the card table in the back of the shop, and she is knelt ( _finally_ ) between his legs. 

After all, they have already shared a bed. She feels no shame that she wants to wrap her mouth around him, that she wants to know what he tastes like, wants to feel the press of him on her tongue.

It had not taken much convincing. Their parting at the lemonstone door on the palace grounds had been sweet, but had too quickly turned heated; it was not long before she was flush against him, his gloved hands pulling her waist to his while she crooned into their kiss:

_“Come home with me.”_

They had slipped down the fields outside the gate and back into the city. All the way back to the shop he had pulled her aside into narrow alleys for kisses and caresses; by the time they arrived he was already flushed and needy and short of breath. 

After they had crossed the threshold—after she had stripped him bare of his clothes—she had only taken a moment to admire how goddamned _beautiful_ he was before shoving him into the chair and taking his already weeping cock into her mouth.

His cry of surprise, gradually yielding to a trembling moan, made her feel _electric._

But now, with him pressing against the back of her throat, she can tell something is wrong. It's in the sudden _absence_ of pleasure noises. Silenced are the little huffs and moans and curses that he surely should be making (in the past, she's provoked such reactions with no more than a caress) and she can feel a tension in his legs that has nothing to do, she suspects, with coiled pleasure.

Slowly, she slid her mouth off of him. Julian gave a breathy whine but when he looked down at her, eyes half-lidded— _the dramatic rise and fall of his gorgeous chest with each ragged breath!_ —she could see something percolating there, something hesitant and repressed. 

“Julian.” She crooned his name, a sound of gentle admonishment and affection at once, running her hands along coarse hairs on the top of his thighs. “What is it?”

“What is—oh,” he said, and blushed deeper. He swallowed nervously, and her eyes trace the rise and fall of his Adam's apple. Too beautiful—even when he was bashful, he was so lovely. 

Julian whined, a low, throaty hum. His teeth are biting into his bottom lip like he can hold the words back with physical force. “I just—it’s nothing. Too soon. I don't want to—I wouldn't impose.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “After the day we've had?” 

She has made every effort to make him believe her: that he can ask for what he needs, that she will give him what he wants, that he _deserves it._ But still, he looks reluctant. 

_What is he hiding?_

She bowed her head, pressed a kiss to the cut of his thigh where it met his sharp hips, then leaned back on her heels. 

“It's okay, Julian. You can tell me.”

But his eye is skittish, unable to hold hers for long. “It isn't, ahhh—it’s not necessarily... for our first time…” There’s a reluctance and a trepidation in his tone but beneath it, something else—a heat and a secret desire, and she _wants it._

She brings her palm to the cap of his knee, rounds it gently. “What are you afraid of, Julian?” she asks, softly, pressing another kiss of encouragement to the muscles of his thigh. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. But you can. Even if it’s not for this time, it won’t change anything.” Her smile splits her face into something devilish when she leans forward to plant a lurid kiss to the base of his cock, murmuring:

“Won’t change the fact that I’m going to finish you, tonight, one way or another.”

He gasps; when she pulls back to look at him again, hand still palming his knee, he’s released his lip.

“I want—I thought…” his voice trails off as he swallows once more, building up the courage. When he finally gets the words out his face is the most darling shade of crimson; it paints his cheeks and the tips of his ears, pinks the skin of his chest beneath the curl of auburn hair. 

“Would you fuck me? With your fingers. While you... oh no, I'm sorry, it's too soon, isn't it? I knew—”

But she does not give him the chance to finish his self-deprecation. Already she is on her feet, away from the chair... before Julian had fully registered that she'd stood her footsteps were receding up the stairs, to the second floor. 

Julian was left. Naked, anxious, feeling more than a little bit foolish. Where had she gone? What was she.... and oh, he _knew_ he shouldn't have said anything. Should have kept it to himself. There would be time, he hoped; plenty of time for curiosities and other deviant pleasures. He should not have stopped her. He should have—

But then, footsteps again, racing down the steps, taking them two at a time. When she parted the shimmering curtains of the card room and came back into view the hat of oil jar was already unscrewed, and the fingers of her right hand were glistening, already coated. 

The moan he gave when he saw her was obscene, breath hitching halfway through, dick twitching to attention, and, _oh_ —it took _such_ strength not to kneel between his legs and resume her work at once, pull more of those beautiful sounds out of him until he was choking and sobbing for release—but no, no, not yet. 

She left the jar on the card table, placed herself between his parted legs. Gently, she eased herself onto his thigh, sitting in his lap, as she leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, his temple, teeth scraping his ear before she pulled back. 

“ _Never_ ,” she breathed, “apologize to me for asking for what you want. Chances are I'll give it—I want to. Give you all the pleasure you ask for and more.” She laughed against the shell of his ear as his fingers squeezed at her ribcage. Whispered when she told him, “gonna give it to you just like that impossible, beautiful life you think we can't have.”

When she pulled back he was looking at her with the most exquisite blend of emotions playing across his face: lust, gratefulness, adoration. And he looked so lovely she couldn't help but bend forward to take his mouth in hers, tasting him, the spices of Portia’s dinner still lingering on his tongue.

“Is that understood?” she whispered against his lips, her eyelashes brushing his cheeks. 

Julian nodded so vigorously in response he nearly knocked their heads together. She laughed, lightly; she kissed the corner of his mouth before lifting herself out of his lap, sinking once more to the floor between his legs.

“Don't be quiet,” she said, petting the tight muscles of his calf with her free hand as the other slipped between his thighs. He lifted his leg obligingly, granting her easier access to the target she sought. “I want you to be loud. To tell me—what you like, how you like it, hard or slow, or—”

“Hard,” Julian croaked, lips parted and eyebrows knit with anticipation. 

And what a sight he is: lips parted, hips tilted towards her, seeking her hand. _My eager boy._ Already she loves more than she feels she has the right to, given the short time she’s known him. Looking at him like this… it’s wondrous, it’s fucking hot as hell, but the feeling pushing out from inside her chest is tender.

But he is far too beautiful to refuse for long.

“Okay,” she said, pressing the tip of her finger against the dark, puckered skin of his entrance. “Can I—”

“Yes,” he groaned, breathy, impatient. So she pressed harder, past the initial resistance; the tip of her finger has barely pushed into him before he is pressing his hips against her hand, taking her finger fully, greedily.

“Ohh, oh, f-fuck,” he sighs, pitched and light. She watches the muscles of his abdomen go taught and his face flush darker; she can feel the muscles of his ass clench around her finger, and _that,_ more than the other reactions, makes her wet. She can feel the cloth of her underwear go damp between her legs, sure a sign as any that she is just as eager as he is. 

Then again, Julian was arousing even at the most inconvenient of times. Simply a suggestive lift of his strong eyebrow was often enough to start that sinking feeling in her stomach, her breath going shallow—even if they were still within earshot of Mazelinka. Even when they are outrunning the palace guards. 

This, though...this was _exquisite._

He's caught his lip between his teeth, again. Worrying away at it, already red and swollen with kisses. But when she probes experimentally with her finger he frees his lip as he gasps, breath hitching and releasing, sweetly.

“Do you want—can I use a second—?”

“Gods, 'Red, fuck, _please_.”

Such a plaintive sound. How could she refuse such a plea?

A second finger joined the first. 

Julian hisses. The soft sound of air escaping him bubbles into pants, little shaky moans, as she begins to curl and scissor her fingers inside of him. And she wants to watch him. She wants to watch each crease of his face contort with pleasure, the strained muscles of his neck, the bobbing in the smooth alabaster white column of his throats when he keens. 

She wants to watch him—but this is not about what she wants, not this time. The future will be full of other opportunities for that. But this, tonight—was for him. 

To prove to him he deserves every happiness, every pleasure. To _convince_ him.

So instead, after one last lingering look at him (head tilted to the heavens, chest shining with sweat) she bowed her head, and took the full of his length into her mouth. 

“Ahh-h—Aredhel!”

The taste of him is salty like the bitters he was drinking when she found him that morning—she does not mind. She smooths her free hand along his thigh as she draws her fingers in and out of him, sliding with ease, and the pace of her mouth only slightly slower, asynchronous. She tugs him deeper into bliss, back and forth between the twin pleasures of her mouth’s heat and her fingers’ reach. 

It was a good thing Nadia had invited Asra to stay for dinner—if he had been upstairs, there would be no hiding their tryst from him. Julian was swearing and moaning and dirty talking so loudly she swore even a muffling ward wouldn't keep his cries from being audible upstairs. 

“ _Yes,_ m-more, don’t be gentle with me, don't— _please_ don’t stop…”

His legs are perched on the balls of his feet; his calves are already trembling. She guesses that he is not far off and surges towards him with a focused intent, running her tongue flat along the base of his cock and sucking obscenely at the tip. 

But while she was working away, she heard him murmur something—begging, pleading. 

She lifts her head, releasing him so she can look him in the face. Slides her fingers out of his ass, sits back on her heels—and the keen he gives! The longing and the loss at the removal of her fingers, like she'd left him bereft of a precious thing. 

“What was that, my love?”

His eye snapped to attention, looking down at her. Bit his lip, again.

What a sight he must have made—but nothing, he thought, compared to her. Sleeves rolled to her elbows, soft and slender forearms decorated with ink, oak leaves around her wrists. Her lips, swollen too, and glistening with—ohh, with _him_ , with—as she gives him her most mischievous smile, like the beginning of a very naughty, clever game. The way she parts her lips and looks at him, hungry and ready to oblige... if she had still been working her fingers he might have come right then and there. 

He can feel the heat creeping up in his cheeks as she watches him, waiting for his admission. “Please,” he said, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper, turned bashful by the intensity of her interest. “Please, I want... three.”

She pushed herself onto her feet, turned to the table behind her to take the jar of oil. “Three?” she repeated, slipping her hands into the viscous oil as she watches him, never once taking her eyes away from him. “Three—what?” she asked, dipping the three middle fingers of her hand into the oil, raising them for him to inspect, smoothing the oil over them until they were shining. “Three fingers?”

Julian groaned. “Three— _yes_ , three fingers.”

She laughed, low in the back of her throat through closed lips—a purr. She placed the oil back on the table and stalked towards him, situating herself between his legs, lifting her skirts and leaning her legs forward so that her thigh brushes against his weeping arousal. 

She leaned over him, breath hot on his ear, hand running down his chest. “Are you going to be good if I give them too you?”

“'ll do whatever you want,” Julian breathed, shallow. “Be good—be _so good_. So good, for you.”

“I want to feel it when you come,” she said. “Wanna feel your ass clench, tight around my hand while you spray yourself down with your own spend.”

“Ohh—oh yeah, yes, _please_. Wanna come with your fingers buried in me. Close—'m close.”

“Didn't take long,” she chuckled. 

Such a beautiful blush on his cheeks. “You—that’s—hhh,” his words cut off by a whine. “You should see yourself, Aredhel. _Gods_. Long lashes and lips around me—it’s a miracle I haven't come already.”

“It wasn't an accusation,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice. “Think of it more like a promise: I'll give them to you—three fingers—now, this time. But next time,” she said, her hand dipping between his legs, “next time I am going to draw it out. Make you beg for it. Hold you off for so long that when I finally let you come you won't be able to move after, so well fucked and spent.”

Julian cried out—three fingertips pushing past his entrance, but then his hips rose to greet them, feet pushing off the floor ’til he’d taken her to her knuckles. 

“Oh gods, oh gods, _fuck_ , yes, 's so good—”

He didn't even wait for her to start. Aredhel looked on in wonder as he practically lifted himself out of the chair, hips bucking towards her, grinding his taint to her palm as he fucked himself on her fingers. 

…It was very difficult, in that moment, not to slide out of her undergarments and straddle his waist and ride him ’til he was howling. 

But she didn't. Wanted to—wanted to feel him, the look of shock and heady pleasure he'd make as she lowered herself over him, sinking down around him. But they'd have time. Right now he was close and she was swollen and heady herself, and so close to his release, and she wanted to give it to him. To be a little selfless. 

But fuck if she wasn't going to tell him. 

“Oh, Julian. Do you have any idea how _glorious_ you look right now?” she leaned back to look him in the face. His eye was screwed shut in concentration, but she knew he'd heard her by the little gasp he made, eye fluttering open to find hers—only for a brief moment—before another wave of pleasure rocked him and it squeezed shut again.  

“You're a vision, Julian. Wish I could keep you like this— _perfect_ —legs tight and neck stretched while you wail. Has anyone ever told you that?” she asked, leaning over him. “How stunning you look when you're getting fucked?”

“Please, don’t stop,” he choked, reaching out to wrap his long fingers around her forearm. “Tell me—tell me. How good I—”

“ _So_ good,” she said, emphatically, sighing sweetly against his temple. “You look so good, sound so good. And you're going to come for me good, too, right?”

“So good,” Julian said, nodding, turning his head towards hers. “So hard, so...  just how you want it.”

“Good,” Aredhel replied. She ducked her head to bite at his ear, scrape her teeth along the taught muscles of his neck—a gesture that earned her a shuddering groan—then descended, nipping a trail down his chest to his pelvis, before she sank to her knees and took him back into her mouth. 

“Oh—oh, no, Aredhel, I'm too close—I’m gonna—”

But she did not let go, sucked in her cheeks slid along him until she could feel him pressing against the back of her throat, her nose nestled in the auburn curls of his groin, inhaling sweet lungfuls of their musky scent. And when she pulled back, leaving her tongue rolling over and around the head of his cock, she crooked her fingers inside of him, pressing against his walls until Julian cried out and his thighs began to tremor in earnest.

He was panting now, his sounds reduced to light and breathless lilts and hums. Still trying in between gasps of pleasure to convince her to release him, to spare her the spill of his seed down her throat, but she is obstinate: even as he begins to shudder, even as the cheap old chair he's sitting in begins to clatter hysterically against the tiled floor, it's legs stuttering with each of Julian's tremors. 

“Aredhel—‘Red, 'm gonna- _ahhh_ —!”

And then he does come, with a guttural groan, good and hard as he’d promised: as the taste of it fills her mouth she can feel the muscles of his gorgeous ass convulsing and contracting around her yet-buried fingers, Julian's hips still grinding weakly against them. His orgasm has doubled him over; he’s curled over himself so tightly that Aredhel can feel each desperate exhale on the top of her head, can hear each ragged breath as he tries to fill his lungs. 

But when it is over, when it has passed through him, he allows himself only a moment of respite—the span of a few short breaths—before his hand is on the side of her face. And he’s pulling her off of his cock, and she's barely had the time to swallow before his mouth is on hers, tongue parting her lips, drinking the taste of himself from her, murmuring praise to her between fervent kisses. 

“Beautiful, 'Red. That was beautiful,” he breathes, sliding a hand through her hair, tilting her head to greet his. “What a fool I was. What an idiot, to push you away. Forgive me, forgive me…”

“There's nothing to forgive,” she sighs, as he peppers her throat with kisses. “You came back to me. You came home.”

That stills him, lips lingering on her clavicle before he slowly backs away. Regards her with a wonder and a hesitation, like he hardly dares believe what he’s heard. 

“Home?”

She looks at him warily, bites her lip. Nods. 

In the next moment he's lifted her off her knees as easily as he always does, and hoisted her on top of the card table. Eager hands find the waist of her undergarments under her skirt, and pull them down off her legs in one easy tug. 

“Julian, take it easy,” she says with a breathy laugh, as he drags his chair to the table, seated before her thighs, parting them gently. “You just—you can take a minute, catch your breath.”

But Julian only leans forward, pressing a kiss high on the inside of her thigh.

“In our home, we will share in everything,” he said, and his eye is shining with a look that makes her feel like starlight. “If you are going to share my burdens, my past, my trials,” and his breath his hot on her thigh as his mouth traces upwards, “then you will also share in my pleasure.”

And before she can get in a word of protest, his tongue licks along her lips. He moans at the taste of her, and closes his clever mouth around her sex. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed my writing, please consider following me on tumblr where I write as 4biddenleeches. :) Come chat with me about my favorite disaster doctor! And my prompt box is always open if there is something particular you’d like to see.


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